


Direct Hit

by keeperofstories



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blowjobs, Fluffy Ending, Hate Sex, M/M, Rough Sex, Wall Sex, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23403313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keeperofstories/pseuds/keeperofstories
Summary: At a crucial moment, Harry is distracted as he and Draco Malfoy duel in the girl's lavatory, allowing Malfoy's curse to make a direct hit. The consequences of this, however, are not what either boy expected.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 355
Collections: The Ides of Drarry: A Drarry Game/Fest





	Direct Hit

Why Malfoy would be in the girl’s lavatory with Moaning Myrtle, Harry had no idea but he was going to find out. He entered the room quietly, cautiously, not sure what devious plot he would be walking into and wanting to maintain the element of surprise. Immediately, Harry saw that Malfoy was across the room, hunched over a discoloured sink, his shoulders shaking. 

“Talk to me, Draco,” Harry heard Moaning Myrtle cajole as he slowly shut the door behind him, taking a quick survey around the bathroom, seeking out any obvious traps. When nothing appeared out of the ordinary and he couldn’t identify anything out of place that could reveal Malfoy’s plan, Harry took a silent step forward. 

“I just…I can’t,” Malfoy gasped and the sound of it stopped Harry dead because Malfoy was _crying._

“I can’t get it to work…I can’t…and he,” Malfoy blubbered, his whole-body quaking with his sobs, “He says he’s going to kill me.” 

Myrtle murmured something consoling as Malfoy hyperventilated. Harry took another step closer as Malfoy brought his head up to stare at his reflection in the mirror. Harry only had a moment to see Malfoy’s tear-stained, twisted face before Malfoy’s eyes widened in shock and silver eyes met equally shocked green ones, as they both froze. Then there was a flurry of movement as Harry dodged to the left just as Malfoy sent a curse that exploded the wall behind him. 

Harry sent his own curse back, which Malfoy deflected as Myrtle wailed between them. Harry tried not to let it, his focus was Malfoy and whatever he had been sent to do, but at a crucial moment, Myrtle’s theatrics distracted him and his guard dropped. 

He had just sent a Stinging Hex blasting towards Malfoy when Myrtle exploded the toilets and disappeared, water surging metres high in the stalls closest to Harry with a cacophonic rush and instinct prevailed over judgement and Harry turned his head to look at what had caused the noise. 

“CRUCIO!” Malfoy shouted, the Unforgivable hitting Harry squarely in the chest before he even had a change to react. Harry tensed, unpleasant memories of a dark cemetery, no escape, vacant, dead eyes, and an eerie laugh as Harry contorted in agony blocking out everything else for a moment. 

But as the seconds ticked by without even a twinge of excruciating pain a realization struck him. Outlandish, improbable, almost laughable, but there was no other explanation. 

“You don’t want to hurt me,” Harry said in an astonished voice, taking a step towards a pale(er) Malfoy. 

“Don’t be stupid, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, “Of course I do. Crucio!” Malfoy cast again. Harry didn’t even try to stop the curse from connecting as six years of animosity started rewriting itself in Harry’s head as the Unforgivable didn’t even cause a tickle. 

“You don’t want to hurt me,” Harry said again, wonder lacing his statement and he saw Malfoy’s hand tremble as he cast again. 

“Crucio,” There was such desperation in Malfoy’s voice that he tried to hide behind his anger, his face twisting in hate as he growled, “Crucio, Crucio,” but this time nothing even emerged from his wand. 

Harry was almost upon Malfoy then and he saw Malfoy give his want a furious shake, as if that alone could cause the curse to fly from it and act properly. Then Harry was right in front of Malfoy, reaching up and taking hold of the wand. Harry felt the impulse to yank it from the other boy’s hand and cast it aside in derision but the look on Malfoy’s face stayed his hand. Malfoy looked caught out and just as confused as Harry and so Harry’s touch was gentle as he extricated the wand from Malfoy’s limp grasp, dropping it to the floor along with his own wand. 

Malfoy swallowed at the sound of their wands clattering to the floor in the heady silence between them and Harry tracked the bob of his Adam’s apple along a thin, delicate throat. 

“I hate you, Scarhead,” Malfoy snarled into Harry’s face, their bodies mere centimetres away from each other and Harry smirked. 

“That’s not what your wand says, Ferret.” 

Though the brief back and forth of curses could hardly be described as physically challenging, let alone a duel, both boys were breathing harshly, their chests rising and falling with each audible breath, almost touching, they were so close. Harry felt the brush of Malfoy’s breath against his face, proof that something hot dwelled under that cold exterior. 

The moment stretched; it felt like an infinity of moments had been captured, bottled, and brewed, only to be released in that fraught moment in the girl’s lavatory as two combative enemies stared each other down. Harry had no idea who moved first, he just knew that his lips were on Malfoy’s and Malfoy’s lips were on him. Harry brough his hands around Malfoy’s throat like he was going to throttle him but instead, used the contact to bring Malfoy closer to himself as Malfoy’s hands yanked at Harry’s robes. 

It wasn’t a tentative meeting of lips like Harry’s past attempts at kissing; it was a battle. Malfoy’s tongue plunged into Harry’s mouth like a conqueror taking over new territory but Harry wouldn’t just concede defeat and accept him. Harry pushed back with his own tongue, sweeping it through Malfoy’s mouth and taking in the other’s flavour. Neither boy was very careful with their teeth as they savaged at each other’s mouths, the sharp tang of blood adding to the brutal force of the kiss as they tried to punish just as much as they tried to please. 

Though it lacked finesse, Harry found himself getting hard at the raw ferocity of the kiss. They devoured each other, their hips starting to mimic the surge of their lips as they tried to dominate the other. 

Lost in the sensations, it took a second for Harry to realize he was moving, being backed up as Malfoy took a step forward, though he never paused in his onslaught of lips and tongue. Malfoy manoeuvred Harry into one of the stalls Myrtle hadn’t exploded with toilet water, shoving Harry back, hard, against the wall of the stall. Malfoy took a moment to lean back slightly, one hand pressed lightly to Harry’s chest, and take in the sight of Harry panting, green almost non-existent in his heated gaze, flush up against a wall with an obvious bulge tenting his trousers. When he had looked his fill, Malfoy returned to attacking Harry’s lips, thrusting his hips against the other boy’s body, and revealing his own arousal in the process. 

Harry wasn’t going to let Malfoy push him around like that and he shoved Malfoy right back, sending him to smack into the opposite wall of the stall. Malfoy looked more disheveled than Harry had ever seen him with his lips swollen red, his chest rising and falling heavily with each breath, and his clothes askew from Harry’s own wandering hands. Malfoy looked wanton and when Harry returned to press himself up against that hard body and kiss those swollen lips that usually did nothing but spew venom, he ground his hand into Malfoy’s cock. He felt Malfoy thrust against him and Harry shoved him back, hearing Malfoy’s grunt as he once again connected with the hard wood of the wall. Harry let his satisfaction at the sound spread across his face. 

Not looking at all amused, Malfoy thrust against Harry’s unrelenting hand again, using the momentum to flip their positions and slam Harry against the wall. Malfoy moved his hand down, trying to worm his way into Harry’s trousers but was stymied by Harry’s belt. Malfoy bared his teeth in frustration and Harry growled right back, shoving at Malfoy’s shoulder. This started a shoving match between them as neither would let the other get the upper hand again and press them back into the waiting wall. 

Soon, though, as Harry felt the painful press of his erection into his fly, shoving turned to snatching as Harry started moving fabric aside without much care of whether he was ripping or not as he moved towards Malfoy’s own flies. Malfoy was only a beat behind Harry, long, deft fingers applying themselves to Harry’s belt buckle as they stood in the center of the stall. 

Harry freed Malfoy’s cock from the confines of his trousers, exposing the heated flesh to the air and sliding a dry hand along its length in a long pull. Malfoy’s breath caught for a moment and his eyes fluttered at the sensation. Then, he was pulling Harry’s cock out and giving it an equally dry squeeze. 

Once again, Malfoy shoved Harry back and Harry thought he was going to get bruises as his back collided with the unforgiving wood. But the thought was quickly lost as Malfoy was suddenly all around him, pressing their bodies together and twining his tongue with Harry’s own as he stroked Harry’s cock with a savage pace. The dry slide of that hand was a type of painful that was quickly turning to pleasure and Harry pumped his own hand just as quickly on Malfoy. There was no way Harry was going to be the one to back down first, so, despite wanting to lean back and simply enjoy Malfoy’s strong hand, Harry smashed his body into Malfoy’s, sending Malfoy back until he heard the loud smack of Malfoy connecting with the stall wall, felt the collision reverberate through the body against him, all the while never slowing his pace on Malfoy’s cock. 

This time, though, Harry wasn’t going to let Malfoy get the chance to push back and he changed the approach of his attack. Thrusting up into Malfoy’s hand, Harry pressed his whole weight into Malfoy, bringing his face close with a dark promise in his eyes. He felt more than saw anticipation spike within Malfoy but Harry had a different destination in mind than Malfoy’s lips. Turning his head to the side, Harry brought his mouth to Malfoy’s vulnerable, pale throat and bit. 

Malfoy’s reaction was a revelation as his body surged against Harry’s own, his cock twitching and dribbling pre-come, slicking Harry’s hand as he gave the head a sharp twist. 

“You sick fuck,” Harry laughed out before sucking another bruising bite into Malfoy’s neck. 

Malfoy, a true Slytherin, knew how to bide his time and wait for the most opportune moment to strike. It only took a moment’s distraction, a particularly devious twist of his wrist that had Harry seeing stars, and Harry was once again shoved up against a wall. 

Malfoy, though, did not follow with Harry this time, letting all contact severe between them for the first time since their lips first met. Both Harry and Malfoy were gasping as they regarded each other. Malfoy paused and made a visible effort to control his breathing. Harry was about ready to push Malfoy back into another wall when Malfoy drove all thought from his head by sinking to his knees in front of Harry. With already swollen lips that were usually only held in a sneer when directed towards Harry, Malfoy descended and engulfed Harry’s cock in a wet, sucking heat. Malfoy swirled his tongue and Harry knew he’d lost, moaning his pleasure as he gave little aborted thrusts into Malfoy’s mouth. 

Malfoy grabbed hold of Harry’s hips to hold him in place as he worked his mouth up and down Harry’s shaft, cheeks hollowing as he sucked. Harry was transported by novel sensations and relentless suction. _Damn Malfoy and his mouth,_ Harry cursed as Malfoy clearly had the upper hand now. When Malfoy started alternating between taking Harry down as deep as he could and pursing his lips around the head in an obscene facsimile of a kiss, Harry wove his fingers through Malfoy’s hair, grabbing onto his head in an attempt to dictate Malfoy’s pace. 

Harry gave an embarrassing whimper as, instead of increasing his pace, Malfoy backed off completely, leaving Harry’s wet cock exposed to the open air. 

“Don’t touch the hair, Potter,” Malfoy demanded and Harry tightened his grip, pulling on the long strands at Malfoy’s tone. He waited for Malfoy to back down but Malfoy proved as immovable as stone. With a frustrated grunt, Harry conceded victory to Malfoy and lifted his hands in capitulation, interlacing his fingers behind his head at stamp down on the temptation to seize Malfoy as he brought his lips back to Harry’s cock and swallowed him down. 

Harry canted his hips forward and watched as Malfoy adjusted his angle. Malfoy always knew how to use his tongue as a weapon and he was using it now to tear Harry apart, swirling and licking all around Harry’s cock and balls and Harry just reveled in it. Inching closer, Malfoy pushed Harry’s shirt up with his hand, the paleness of it seeming even more pronounced against the mocha brown of Harry’s skin, though the strength in it Harry could attest to as it pressed against Harry’s stomach. 

Harry could see Malfoy had taken himself in his other hand but he didn’t really care about that as Malfoy was once again bobbing his head along Harry, fucking his face with Harry’s cock, keeping Harry still with the one hand against his core so that Malfoy was in complete control. Harry couldn’t find it in himself to complain, though, as Malfoy’s talented mouth worked its magic along Harry’s cock, engulfing it again and again in delicious heat. 

As Malfoy sped up, Harry felt a familiar tightening in his balls as the pleasure built. 

“Malfoy, I’m going to…” Malfoy pulled off immediately and placed a strangling hold around the base of Harry’s cock. 

“Don’t you dare come in my mouth, Potter,” Malfoy snapped. 

Harry gave a thwarted thrust, Malfoy’s hand firm, a frustrated groan escaping him as Malfoy’s ploy was successful and Harry felt the fucking mind-blowing orgasm he’d about to have recede. 

“Fucking hell, Malfoy,” Harry complained as Malfoy stood up, a satisfied smirk on his pointy, ferret face. Harry could not let that stand and he seized Malfoy’s head, wiping that smirk off his smug face with a brutal kiss, his cock sliding along Malfoy’s as they clung to each other. Harry broke the kiss to lick a long, wet stripe up his hand. An unnecessary action as both he and Malfoy were slick with pre-come but it was worth it to see the curl of Malfoy’s disgust shift to pleasure as Harry wrapped his hand around the both of them and stroked, pumping fast and hard. 

Their harsh breathing filled the tight space as Harry stroked. Malfoy slid his hands from Harry’s neck, down his back. He slipped his hands into Harry’s loose trousers to grip Harry’s arse, squeezing and kneading. They were now pressed so tightly together that Harry could hardly move his hand, so he returned to Malfoy’s neck, pressing his thumb into the underside of Malfoy’s jaw to gently coax his head up to receive Harry’s kiss. They started thrusting against each other, Malfoy’s hold on Harry’s arse giving his thrusts an extra snap, the delicious friction of the movement zinging through Harry as he gave a light nip to Malfoy’s lower lip. 

Harry was closer to the edge than Malfoy and with each hard thrust against the other boy’s body, he felt the tension rise in his own. Bringing his head back to Malfoy’s neck, he bit down hard, savouring Malfoy’s gasp as he lost his rhythm against Harry’s body. Harry felt his own release building but he was damned if he wasn’t going to make Malfoy come first. Sucking bruises into Malfoy’s neck, Harry walked Malfoy back a step so he was once more pressed up against the stall wall, Malfoy not letting go of his arse as he did so. Putting some space between them, Harry wrapped his hand around Malfoy’s twitching prick, stroking him while alternating between placing sharp nips and bruising kisses along Malfoy’s neck until his breath hitched, his hips stuttered, and his hands on Harry’s arse seized almost painfully as Malfoy spilled all over Harry’s hand. Giving a triumphant laugh, Harry thrust a few more times against Malfoy’s slackening body and then his own orgasm hit and he was coming against a warm Malfoy. 

“I still hate you, Potter,” Malfoy said while they were adjusting their clothes, putting themselves right again after they had recovered from their blinding orgasms. 

“I still hate you, too,” Harry snapped back, tucking his shirt back into his trousers. 

In no time at all, Malfoy was back to looking like his impeccably dressed self, not even a hair out of place, nothing about his appearance or demeanour giving away what they had been up to apart from a slight flush to his cheeks and prominent bruising that Harry took great pride in seeing, peppered along his neck. 

Malfoy looked so composed that Harry had even forgotten he had found Malfoy crying before all this started. But it all came back to him when he saw Malfoy pause at the bathroom door, glancing back with a jittery expression on his face. 

“I hope you win, Potter,” he said softly before he was gone, door swinging shut behind him. 

For a second, Harry stood dumbfounded, trying to reconcile that statement with everything he knew of Malfoy. But then, he had already started to suspect he was missing some crucial pieces of who Malfoy was when his Cruciatus failed to hurt Harry. That’s what had gotten them here. Malfoy didn’t want to hurt Harry and Harry, with a quick decisiveness and a nod, even though no one was there to see it, realized he didn’t want to see Malfoy hurt either. Not seriously, anyway, as Harry remembered Malfoy’s desperate rasp to Myrtle before noticing Harry’s presence. 

In a flash, Harry was running, spurred on by a sudden sense of doom that would have made Professor Trelawney proud. Frantic thoughts pumped through Harry as he raced down the corridor towards Malfoy’s quickly retreating back. 

“Malfoy!” Harry shouted and then muttered, “sodding git,” as he saw Malfoy pause and then lengthen his strides at Harry’s call. Putting on a burst of speed, Harry yanked on Malfoy’s arm, pulling him to a stop in the empty corridor. 

“Hands off, Potter,” Malfoy sneered, disengaging his arm from Harry’s hold and wiping at the sleeve of his shirt as if Harry’s touch had transferred some disgusting thing onto it. 

“I know you Gryffindors are ridiculously sentimental,” Malfoy started in with one of the snootiest tones Harry had heard him use yet, “but don’t think because we…” 

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said, not needing Malfoy and his annoying…Malfoy-ness to derail him from his purpose. “I don’t care about that. You need to go to Dumbledore.” 

Malfoy shot a disbelieving took towards Harry, saying adamantly, “I am not telling that old coot that I defiled his precious golden boy.” At Malfoy’s outraged snottiness, Harry started to second guess his decision to keep Malfoy alive. He really wanted to clobber the other boy. 

“Not about that, you nutter!” Harry said, “About Voldement. Dumbledore can protect you.” Harry saw Malfoy flinch and knew he’d been right. About all of it. 

“I don’t need protection,” Malfoy spat, drawing himself up. Harry could see Malfoy wrapping himself in his pride, blood status, and wealth like armour but he knew it would prove as flimsy as tin foil against Voldemort. 

“Yes, you do,” Harry argued, “Voldemort is…” 

“Don’t say his name, Potter,” Malfoy snapped and Harry wasn’t going to argue the point, “ _He_ is a powerful Legilimens, he can look inside your head…” 

“I know what a Legilimens is, get to the point,” Malfoy said, trying to sound cross but Harry knew him enough to know he was scared. 

“He’s going to find out,” Harry said, willing Malfoy to listen, “About what we did, what you _said._ How to you reckon he’s gonna react to that? You need Dumbledore, he’ll know what to do.” 

“Sainted Potter, always running to Dumbledore to fix everything. He’s a pathetic, old, mudblood-loving, embarrassment of a wizard and you’re a fool to believe in him.” Malfoy paled after he spoke but the words hung between them and Harry was done. It had been a mad impulse that had sent him after Malfoy thinking he’d actually listen and, of course, this was the result. He should’ve known better. 

“Enjoy dying at sixteen, Malfoy,” Harry said, already turning away and trying to shove Malfoy out of his mind—a place he had been occupying far too frequently, lately. 

Harry had reached the staircase that would eventually take him to Gryffindor Tower when a hesitant “Potter” stopped him. He briefly thought about not acknowledging the voice and just keep on walking. 

Very reluctantly, he turned on the step to look down on Malfoy, who looked like he was going to be sick. 

“What about my mother?” Malfoy asked. 

Harry considered Malfoy for a moment, noting with interest that he hadn’t included his father in the question, before replying, “I’m sure Dumbledore can think of something.” 

Malfoy grimaced but said, “Alright, Potter. You win.” 

“Didn’t think your wish would come true so soon, did you?” Harry joked as he dragged a silently seething Malfoy up to Dumbledore’s office. 

_8th Year, The Hogwarts Express_

Harry stared out at the landscape passing by just outside his window, amazed that it looked exactly the same as it had on that first breath-taking journey when he was eleven years old. He felt like he was eleven again, starting a new adventure, but this time without the weight of the past or the threat of untimely death hanging over his head. He was finally free of it all and ready to learn just who he wanted to be from now on. For himself, not for the Wizarding World. 

“Do you want anything, Harry?” Ron asked and at Harry’s headshake, he and Hermione left the carriage and Harry was left alone to marvel at the scenery. 

“You look lonely, Potter,” a disembodied voice drawled and Harry was out of his seat, wand raised high in an instant. 

“Who’s there?” Harry asked though it came out more as a demand to fucking show yourself! 

“Easy, Potter,” came the voice again, along with Malfoy’s head followed quickly by the rest of his body, “It’s just me.” 

Harry pocketed his wand and gave Malfoy a hard look. He hadn’t seen him since that night in Dumbledore’s office, Dumbledore making all the arrangements to send the Malfoys to France as a quiet Draco Malfoy sat, looking smaller and smaller as his life upended. 

The man in front of Harry now was so different from that scared, cowardly boy Harry remembered. France suited Malfoy, Harry decided, as he took a second look up and down Malfoy’s sharply dressed body. Malfoy stood tall and let him as he did the same to Harry. It was obvious something that loosened within Malfoy while he was in France and Harry sensed Malfoy was more at peace with himself than he ever had been before. 

“You have an invisibility cloak,” Harry said, stating the obvious as he returned to his seat by the window. 

“Couldn’t let you be the only one,” Malfoy replied in a show of their old rivalry, though missing any of the antagonism of the past. 

“It must’ve come in handy while smuggling refugees across the channel,” Harry said nonchalantly. He had heard what Malfoy and his family—even Malfoy’s father, Narcissa must have prevailed upon him somehow—had done for the muggleborns and other refugees fleeing Tom’s violence: helping them cross the channel, setting them up in safe houses, protecting people’s lives. Doing their part, just as Neville had done for the students at Hogwarts, while Harry destroyed horcruxes and made Tom vulnerable. None of this “Chosen One” bullshit, they each made crucial contributions to the war effort, and Harry wanted Malfoy to know he appreciated it. 

“It did, quite,” Malfoy said forcibly casually, flicking imaginary lint from his sleeve before giving an embarrassed cough, “I…didn’t realize you knew about that.” 

“It’s worth noting,” Harry said, “when you hear a muggleborn thanking God for, and I quote, ‘That sweet little dearie, Draco Malfoy.’” Harry laughed at Malfoy’s sour pinch but he saw the delight he was trying to hide all the same. 

“Was that Mrs. Loughty?” Malfoy asked, a blush spreading across his cheeks. Harry was fascinated…and delighted that it seemed Malfoy had, not only spent time with the muggleborns he helped, but also got to know them personally. 

“I didn’t catch a name, sorry,” Harry said regretfully, “forty-ish woman, Scottish, blazing red hair and dark, brown skin.” 

“That sounds like her,” Malfoy said with a fond smile as he carefully folded up his invisibility cloak and set it aside. “She makes the best tablet I’ve ever had.” 

“You always did have quite the sweet tooth,” Harry said with a laugh. 

“Yes, well,” Malfoy said, “that’s neither here nor there.” Malfoy cleared his throat and straightened his back before shooting Harry a piercing look. “I’m glad you won, Potter,” Malfoy said with feeling. 

Harry accepted Malfoy’s words with a nod as flashes of all that had happened in that bathroom crossed Harry’s mind and he felt a warmth building up in his core, a pleasant tightening that he decided he should try and distract himself from. 

“What’re you gonna do now?” Harry asked conversationally, changing the subject, and felt Malfoy brush up against his arm as he sat down next to Harry and said, “I’m going to be a Potioneer.” Harry smiled at how excited Malfoy sounded and was once again struck by the knowledge that this wasn’t the same Draco Malfoy Harry had fought with and obsessed over for six years, just as Harry wasn’t the same either. Harry wondered how things would have gone if he had gotten a chance to see this Malfoy—relaxed, confident, and happy to have a purpose—all those years ago. 

“Professor Slughorn has agreed to take me on as an apprentice,” Malfoy finished, his voice bringing Harry back to the present. 

“Why’re you here, then, and not at the castle with the teachers?” Harry asked. He saw Malfoy shift uncomfortably before he answered, “I wanted to talk to you before you were surrounded by the adoring public. I thought I would have a better chance of that here.” Malfoy shifted again, looking mightily uncomfortable, the confident man of a second ago disappearing slightly. 

“I wanted to thank you, Potter, on behalf of myself, my mother, and my father. You saved us even when we didn’t know how to ask for help and we are…immensely grateful.” 

Harry took the thanks as gracefully as he could though he knew his face was flaming red at Malfoy’s words. He did his own share of squirming as his own confidence seemed to have deserted him for a second before replying honestly, “I’m just glad you accepted the help.” 

Harry gave a few deliberate coughs and both men avoided eye contact for a while, watching the countryside go by with unseeing eyes. 

Harry was lost in the past, remembering Malfoy’s bullying ways, his prejudices and pettiness, his cruelty. It all seemed like a life-time ago and something that the Malfoy sitting beside him wanted to move away from. Harry knew _he_ wanted to let all of that go. A new life waited before him and he didn’t want past mistakes and grievances to tarnish it before he had even had a chance to enjoy it. There was one thing, however, he didn’t want to leave behind in the past. 

Turning to Malfoy with a hesitant smile, his heart thumping madly, Harry said in an off-handed way, as it his words weren’t something he was very much excited about, “So, we’ll be at Hogwarts together again.” 

Malfoy turned to meet Harry’s eyes and he held Harry’s gaze as he said, “I suppose that is true, yes.” Harry saw a ghost of a taunting smile grace Malfoy’s still very kissable lips as Harry had just stated the obvious. Again. Harry gulped and Malfoy tracked the movement. Seeing that gave Harry courage. He had thought he would never see Malfoy again; that he was one of life’s lost opportunities and that, though it would inevitably cause an ache in his heart, he should forget him. He never imagined that Malfoy would be here, returning to Hogwarts, and that their attraction would not only still be present but would actually have strengthened over the past year. 

Harry took a breath as he made a decision looking into Malfoy’s eyes. Over seven years ago, a hand had been proffered and rejected, a friendship denied. But now, Harry didn’t want to be just _friends._ Very deliberately, Harry placed his hand down between himself and Malfoy, palm facing up and fingers slightly spread in invitation. 

“Will you stay here with me?” Harry asked softly, his gaze following to his outstretched hand. After a moment’s hesitation in which Harry swore his heart fucking stopped, Malfoy wove his fingers with Harry’s, holding Harry’s hand and giving it a light squeeze. Harry exhaled loudly and they both gave a little laugh as they sat there holding hands, feeling a future unfurl before them. 

Harry turned his head back towards the window, exposing his neck and shoulder, waiting to see if Malfoy would take the hint. He closed his eyes and smiled in delight as Malfoy rested his head against Harry, leaning his warm body into Harry as they adjusted their hands, keeping them clasped together. They both stared out the window in silence for a while. It was Malfoy who broke the peaceful silence hanging around them. 

“I missed you, Harry,” he said. 

“I missed you, too, Draco,” Harry replied as the train carried them ever North to Hogwarts.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope y'all enjoyed :D
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated and loved!


End file.
